4.26 am

I was awake and up at 4.26 am this morning primarily because I went to bed at 9.30 pm. As I was falling asleep I could hear the heavy rain. I had a strenuous day yesterday, lots of walking. I walked past 480 Burwood Road where I lived from the age of five, until I was eight years old ~ it's still the same, except the front hedge was a little over-grown. Miss Starr's glorious brick residence on the corner is still there ~ my grandmother would occasionally take us to her place for afternoon tea. Wearing old fashioned clothes and a severe look, Miss Starr, who must have been all of seventy plus years would sit in her high-backed chair and hold court like some regal being from a past era. My sisters and I, dressed in our Sunday best, would sit up straight like we'd been told to do and we'd be too terrified to speak or eat. I have a strange sense of comfort knowing that the houses are still there even though Miss Starr and nan have long passed from this world. I knew that if I returned to Hawthorn that early memories would start flooding in. Perhaps it is a reminder that I must finish my novel. It was put on hold and has stayed there far too long. Why is it that we find some things so hard to finish. Is it because we have to finally let go of them? I've had little trouble writing articles and a PhD thesis, but this novel is the most demanding, the most frustrating project in my life to date. It's 5.58 am and although it is still not light, I can hear the first bird calls of the morning.